Chapter 46
Two hours later and Evander had to concede that this rendition of La Traviata was particularly sublime. Violetta’s tragedy unfolded on the stage below in a sweep of glorious music and heartbreaking emotion, the soprano’s voice soaring through arias that caused Evander’s eyes to prickle.
To his credit, Viggo managed to stay awake through the first two acts. He even appeared to be paying attention during the more dramatic moments, though Evander suspected this had more to do with the on-stage sword fight in Act Two than any appreciation for Verdi’s genius.
It was during the interval between Acts Two and Three that everything changed.
They had declined to join the crush in the lobby, preferring to remain in the privacy of their box. Evander was standing by the curtains and looking out over the milling crowd below when he felt Viggo’s presence behind him, a wall of heat at his back.
“You’re thinking again,” Viggo murmured, his breath warm against Evander’s ear.
“I’m always thinking.”
“Mm. It’s one of your more irritating qualities.” Large hands settled on Evander’s hips, pulling him back against a broad chest. “What is it this time? The investigation? The Ministry? That pompous arse Beckett?”
Evander huffed a laugh despite himself. “Nothing so dire. I was simply appreciating this moment.”
“Were you now?” Viggo’s lips brushed the curve of his ear, making him shiver. “And here I thought you were paying attention to the opera.”
“I was.” Evander sighed and sank back into his lover. “I can do both, you know.”
“You have such talent, your Grace.” The hands on his hips tightened fractionally. “I have a confession to make.”
Evander frowned a little. “You do?”
“Yes. I haven’t been paying attention to the opera at all.”
Evander turned his head, bringing their faces close together. “No?” He raised an eyebrow. “What have you been paying attention to?”
Viggo’s eyes were dark in the dim light of the box, his expression intent.
“You. The way the music makes you lean forward in your seat. The way your breath catches during the high notes. The way you look in this light.” His thumb traced circles on Evander’s hip bone through the layers of clothing.
“I’ve been thinking about touching you for the past two hours. ”
Desire coiled through Evander. “We’re in public.”
“We’re in a private box. With very heavy curtains.” Viggo’s mouth found the sensitive spot below his ear. “No one can see us.”
“Viggo—” Evander protested weakly.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” The words were spoken against his skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. “But I don’t think you want me to stop.”
God help him, he didn’t.
Evander turned in Viggo’s arms, bringing them face-to-face. The Brute’s eyes glittered with lust, his breathing slightly unsteady.
“You’re a menace,” Evander mumbled.
“I prefer ‘determined.’” Viggo’s smile was wicked. “Isn’t that what you told me once?”
Whatever response Evander might have made was lost as Viggo kissed him.
It started softly, almost tenderly. A gentle press of lips that spoke of affection rather than passion.
But it didn’t stay that way. Heat built between them with the inevitability of a rising tide.
Evander soon found himself pressed against the wall of the box, Viggo’s body a solid weight against his own.
“We shouldn’t,” Evander gasped between kisses. “The third act—”
“Can wait,” Viggo growled against his throat. “I’ll even buy you another damn ticket if you want to see this opera again.”
“Someone might—” Evander murmured.
“They won’t.” Viggo’s fingers were working at Evander’s clothes with the efficiency of a man who’d done this a hundred times before, loosening buttons and pushing fabric aside. “I checked the sight lines. Twice.”
Evander grabbed his lover’s hands and fixed him with an indignant stare.
“You planned this.”
“From the moment we walked into this box. And I think ‘strategised’ is a better word.”
Evander’s protest died in his throat when Viggo dropped to his knees.
The first touch of Viggo’s mouth on his cock made him see stars. Evander bit down on his fist to muffle the sound that tried to escape. He was intensely aware of the audience just below them, the open auditorium beyond the curtains, the thousand ways this could go terribly wrong.
None of it mattered. Not with Viggo’s hands gripping his thighs, not with that clever tongue doing things to him that made rational thought impossible. The distant strains of the orchestra tuning for the next act became mere background noise, drowned out by the thunder of his own heartbeat.
It didn’t take long for Evander to orgasm, to spill himself wantonly in his lover’s mouth.
Viggo knew his body too well. Knew exactly how to take him apart, how to build the pleasure until it crested and broke, leaving Evander shattered and gasping and utterly undone.
He barely had time to recover before Viggo pulled him to the floor.
The Brute divested Evander of his trousers and undergarments, guided him onto his hands and knees, and crowded his back.
Evander looked over his shoulder in time to see Viggo yank the cork out of a small vial of intimate oil with his teeth, his erection rising proudly where he’d freed himself.
Evander bit his lip. “Hurry.”
Viggo shuddered at his wanton tone, his eyes burning brightly as he quickly coated his shaft and his hand. He circled Evander’s entrance teasingly for a torturous moment before pushing a finger inside.
Evander bit the inside of his cheek and stifled a delicious moan.
Viggo took his time stretching him before guiding his cock to his opening.
Then there was pressure and heat and the exquisite sensation of being filled.
Evander braced his hands against the floor and dropped his head, surrendering to the intoxicating wonder that was Viggo making love to him.
Viggo took him slowly at first, each thrust deliberate and controlled.
But control was a finite resource. Soon, they were both lost to the primal act, moving together in a rhythm as old as time, muffling the sounds that tumbled from their lips as best they could as their pleasure built toward its inevitable peak.
Below them, the orchestra struck up the opening notes of Act Three. Neither of them noticed.
Evander came with Viggo’s name on his lips, the Brute following moments later with a groan that vibrated through both of them. They stayed like that for a long time, breathing hard, wrapped up in each other and this intimate moment as the music swelled beneath them.
Viggo finally stirred. He pressed a kiss to the back of Evander’s neck before carefully withdrawing and pulling him down on his lap as he sat back against the wall.
“So, how did you enjoy your second opera, Mr. Stonewall?” Evander panted, his heart still thundering against his ribs, his body boneless and sated as he relaxed against the Brute.
“It was delicious, your Grace,” Viggo said against his hair. “I’d like to come again.”
Evander blinked and stiffened. He twisted around in Viggo’s lap.
“What, right this very minute?” he practically squeaked.
Viggo looked at him blankly. “I meant the opera.”
Evander flushed. A wicked smile stretched Viggo’s mouth when he realised Evander’s mistake.
“Were you entertaining filthy thoughts, my Lord?”
Evander’s spent cock quivered to life at the teasing endearment.
“It was a simple misunderstanding,” he said hastily.
Viggo’s breath teased the shell of Evander’s ear, making him shudder.
“Are you certain?”—he danced light fingers down Evander’s stomach, making his muscles clench, and grazed his swelling erection with his knuckles—“your Grace?” He sank his teeth into Evander’s earlobe.
Evander groaned at the teasing touch and bite, turned urgently in Viggo’s arms, and straddled his lap. The Brute laughed softly as Evander claimed his lips in a hungry kiss.